Last of Their Kind
by Ulura
Summary: Sequel to Alphas and Omegas, not Omegaverse. With Moriarty gone Sherlock and John thought they had put the dark times behind them. But soon things begin to go wrong, John is slowly but surely loosing his powers and with them his own life force. While Sherlock is plagued with nightmares of coming threats both will have to fight to survive in more ways than one.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: To understand this you MUST read the first in the series Alphas and Omegas.**

**I really wish I'd known about the Omegaverse back then so I could of picked a different name! **

* * *

John hated swimming in the Thames, the water was murky and filled with silt. Despite his sharp eyes he found the dark waters very hard to navigate, especially at night but he didn't have much choice. The idiotic criminal had dumped the diamonds into the water from the side of his boat so that Sherlock wouldn't have the evidence to convict him. So now, here he was, at the bottom of the horrible river bed, searching for anything that wasn't covered in grime.

Sherlock told him to be thankful John could breath under water, John told him he could be thankful later, after all the mud was cleaned off him.

'Why did I have to be the one to grow gills and webs?' John lamented to himself.

He rifled through the mud, stirring up the waters until he finally felt his palm close around a cool smooth object. It was hard to see so deep down in the midnight waters but with his sharp vision he could tell it was one of the gems. Excellent! The others must be close by. He continued to gather up the precious stones, placing them in his pockets until he had almost every one, he was about to reach for a particularly large stone when he coughed and began to choke on the water around him.

Slightly panicked he bought his hands to his face, the webs were smaller. Suddenly very panicked as it became harder to breath he patted around his neck, his gills were closing! How could that be? He didn't bother to dwell on it, he was at the bottom of the Thames for goodness sakes! He shot upward, swimming for the surface, the glimmer of street lights began to filter through the waters as he gills closed off completely. He felt like his lungs were burning inside his chest, the sensation made him dizzy. Some how he kept moving, if he passed out he'd drown and Sherlock had no idea of his struggle beneath the expanse of blue.

Bursting up into the air he dragged the oxygen into his starved lungs, the dizziness did not leave, if anything the air made him feel worse. He coughed and spluttered up the water that had made it's way into his stomach and tried to breath in again. Weakly he pulled himself up onto the dock from which he'd jumped in, vaguely aware that somebody was pulling his jacket in an effort to help him. Still panting for air he collapsed on his stomach against the damp wood. Focusing solely on his ability to breath.

He could feel the connection between Sherlock and himself open up as the detective laid his hand over the doctors. His emotions asking questions faster than aloud words ever could. Are you all right? What happened? Why did you turn off your gills so far down? Did you get all the gems?

Groaning John sat up giving Sherlock a friendly smile to show he was fine.

"Here, I got most of them." John coughed emptying his pockets, "Is this enough?"

"Yes." Sherlock nodded, "Why didn't you turn your gills off until you reached the surface John? Or at least turn them back on when you began to struggle? That was a foolish thing to do!"

"I didn't turn them off." John growled, "They failed on their own, I couldn't turn them on again."

Sherlock gave him a concerned look and switch on his data vision.

"Sherlock!" John scolded, "Anybody could see you!"

"You seem fine…" Sherlock muttered, hair and eyes returning to their usual dark shade of black rather than blazing white.

"I'm just tired." John nodded, "That must be it, even I can't go two week without sleep without feeling the ramifications."

Sherlock gave a nod and helped John to his feet.

"We will return home once I've taken these to Lestrade." He indicated to them gems, "The police force can take it from here. I prefer to avoid the paper work."

-oOo-

Usually John slept for a few hours every two nights or so, unlike Sherlock who liked to stay up for at least a week at a time. Ever since this case began both had been going full on. Their bodies could last about two to three weeks before they simple had to rest due to exhaustion but ideally they needed to sleep at least once a week.

John was feeling the call of his bed now as they climbed the stairs, but he had something to deal with first.

"Alright Sherlock, you need sleep too." He chided, "We both do."

"You go and sleep, the incident at the river is proof enough you are exhausted." Sherlock waved him off, "I have some experiments to do."

"Oh no you don't." John dragged the detective to his room, "You're going to sleep."

"I am most certainly not!" Sherlock snapped trying to free his arm of John's grip, "Let me go!"

John responded by conjuring a silver ring in his free palm and shoving it against Sherlock's temple. The detective instantly felt drowsy.

"That's cheating." Sherlock grumbled as he flopped down on his bed.

"Oh shut up and get some sleep." John chuckled, "At least I didn't knock you out completely."

John left and went to his room after that, Sherlock heard the bed creak as the Omega dropped down onto it and instantly fell asleep. Sherlock decided he may as well sleep now since John had induced this exhausted state, deep down he knew he couldn't of made it more than a few more days before he collapsed anyway.

-oOo-

_Sherlock was standing on a cliff made of black, cracked stone. The rock face was so high he couldn't see the ground below, only blackness and the grey sky with a dead sun. In front of him was a black miasma, steadily creeping toward him. Shapes and faces formed that at first he didn't recognise but then they cleared and he growled. Alphas, all the other Alphas from The Facticity that he grew up with who had lost their Omegas and been taken away. He'd almost forgotten them now. _

_Then that Gamma joined them, Moriarty he was at the head of the group, they all had hungry eyes that lit up as they stared at him. _

_"He's the only one left." They snarled, "Give him to us!"_

_At first Sherlock was confused, then he realised John was standing just behind him at his side. When had he gotten here?_

_"I could make him bond with me, make him MY Omega." Moriarty taunted just like he had at the pool, Sherlock stepped in front of John. _

_He held up a hand ready to attack but the lightning wouldn't come, the Alpha's laughed, Moriarty grinned. _

_"Give him to us!" _

_"No!" Sherlock growled, "John, fly away."_

_"I can't!" John replied looking frightened, "My wings, they're gone!"_

_The miasma shot forward forming a ring around the detective and covering John. He heard the Omega yell and the faces laugh at his pain, Sherlock reached out into the black cloud to pull John out but found it burnt his skin terribly._

_"John!"_

_"He's ours now." The voices taunted, "You no longer have any purpose!"_

_The miasma closed in on him, ready to burn him to a crisp, he held out a hand and tried to summon his lightning but it wouldn't come. He watched as shadowy hands reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him toward the smoke..._

"NO!"

"Argh!"

The hands were wrenched from his shoulders as Sherlock's lightning hit whatever was holding him down off his chest. His eyes snapped open at the second voice and sat up quickly, John was sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed, healing rings working on two burns near the centre of his chest caused by Sherlock's blast.

"John!" Sherlock gaped, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." John winced, "You were dreaming, I shouldn't of grabbed you like that."

Sherlock watched as John's healing rings dulled slightly before regaining their glow and repeating. They had never done that before...

* * *

**I told myself I wasn't going to upload this chapter until I'd finished Brothers of Destiny. But I couldn't help it! So here it is, the sequel. I've been planning it for AGES.**

**A while ago I found this picture Two Ghosts by Oirbmeamu on DeviantArt that reminded me of Alpha's and Omega's, check it out!**

**I have been inspired to do many scenes from pictures and fanart I've found over the last few months. I'll be sure to tell you of them in the chapters they appear. **


	2. Chapter 2

"Must you play that infernal thing now?" John pleaded rubbing his temples.

Sherlock had been playing his violin for hours and John had developed a migraine over the same time. He'd been having a lot of headaches lately; he really should give himself a check over. He hadn't had any heavy hits to the head recently, so that couldn't be it. Repeated migraines were serious.

Despite the fact that his years of military and medical training had been a false memory he still retained them along with his true memories. It was odd, having two sets of memories in one head but he got used to it over the months.

"Just use your rings." Sherlock replied, "I know you've got a headache."

John made a face, he didn't want to tell Sherlock he'd been having trouble summoning them as of late, they needed just a little more energy than they used to.

"I'm too distracted." He lied.

-oOo-

John had given little thought to the other Alphas, besides Mycroft of

course. They had been shipped off by Kell to the CIA and various other

secret services, at least that what Kell had said. With he and Sherlock

becoming so famous he though perhaps he'd hear from them. Then again,

perhaps they were dead. He couldn't know for sure.

Were it not for Mycroft John would of worried about it more, if the other Alpha's were a threat he'd take care of them. A dark part of John's mind wondered if he already had.

Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts he trudged up the stairs to the flat where Sherlock was waiting for him. Since they ate much less than normal humans John only had to shop once a month or so and luckily Sherlock hardly even cared what he ate, so he mostly lived off cheap instant meals.

However right now John's shopping bags were full of various soups as Sherlock was sick, a very rare thing indeed.

It had been on a case, one of the the perpetrators had gotten the better of them for once and dosed Sherlock with, what would be a lethal dose of arsenic. Naturally Sherlock survived, his nanobots protecting him however it had effected him somewhat.

So instead of dying a terrible death Sherlock was now lying on the couch at Baker Street with a bad fever and tremors that refused to go away. John was slowly healing him up but even with his rings it was going to take at least another 24 hours for Sherlock to be 100% again.

"You really should be in bed you know." John sighed as he addressed the lump of blanket that was his Alpha.

Sherlock huffed.

Rolling his eyes John went to the kitchen and heated up some soup for the detective holding it out in his palm.

"I ate four days ago." He grumbled.

"Come on, its chicken." John tempted, "I know you like chicken soup."

"The kind with the noodles?" Sherlock asked, John chuckled.

"Yes of course. Now sit up so you can drink this without spilling it all over yourself."

"No let me try something."

Sherlock's eyes lit and and he raised a shaky hand, at first nothing happened but after a few seconds the soup began to shift in the bowl until a small ball of soup the size of a marble began to float in the air. The soup ball wobbled and undulated but ultimately kept a shape close to a ball and floated over to Sherlock who opened his mouth and dropped it in.

"Now is not the time to be practicing your telekinesis." John chided.

"Keeping water a float is so much harder than a solid o-object John," Sherlock explained as he shivered, "I have to keep the shape, t-think about it! If I can master this I can form any shape I like, I could move water around myself and walk underwater when you swim!"

John let Sherlock ramble as he got a thermometer, he had a feeling this spiel might have something to do with his fever.

"And then, once I master that I could c-control the blood in somebody's body, I could make people stop in their t-tracks!"

"Sherlock..." John growled.

"Alright n-no controlling people but think of the possibilities John!" Sherlock continued floating another rough ball of soup toward himself, "I don't know why I've never r-really experimented with my telekinesis, maybe I could l-learn to levitate myself! Or _mphf!"_

What ever he had been about to say was stopped when his tremors suddenly caused him to spasm and the soup to fall onto his face. John sighed and quickly wiped the soup of the stubborn mans face and stuck the thermometer in his mouth.

"Alright, here's the deal, you can experiment as soon as you're well." John compromised, laying a hand across Sherlock forehead.

"Fine."

Without thinking the Omega raised his palm to his temple and massaged it, he was getting another migraine.

"Your head's h-hurting." Sherlock noted, "Again."

"It's nothing, just been busy is all." John smiled, "I'll take an aspirin."

"You'll need half a tin to have it e-effect you." Sherlock chuckled.

"Oh Shut up."

-oOo-

_"Sherlock!"_

_"Sherlock help me!"_

_Sherlock was in a metal room with a solid steal door, despite this fact he could still hear John's voice clearly on the other side of the door. _

_"John?"_

_"Sherlock! They've got me! Help!"_

_"Who?" Sherlock asked banging on the door._

_"Them! They-Argh!"_

_"John? John!"_

_Sherlock was beginning to panic now, suddenly he felt something around his feet, looking down he discovered it was deep red blood. John's blood. Oh no...there was so much of it...Oh God..._

-oOo-

Sherlock was practically writhing on the couch, tossing and turning relentlessly and gasping for breath. The fever was practically gone, meaning this was another of Sherlock's nightmares. They were getting more frequent as of late.

Knowing better than to grab him like last time John gripped Sherlock's hand opening their link and did his best to send calm thoughts at the detective. It was hard to focus, with Sherlock unconscious like this he couldn't hold back his own thoughts and John was bombarded with waves of fear and anguish.

_'Calm down Sherlock, it's only a dream, it's only a dream...'_

Sherlock's eyes hot open but he remained on the couch breathing heavily. The grey orbs flicked to me and he sat up, wrapping his hands around my neck. He hated being like this, vulnerable and weak. John was the only one whom he didn't feel quite so ashamed around.

"I'll put you into a deeper sleep." John offered quietly laying Sherlock back down.

"No I-"

"I'll make sure it's deep, no dreams."

"...Alright." Sherlock sighed turning to the side and offering his temple.

John summoned his rings, they took just a tiny bit more energy than they had the last time. Now it wasn't a problem but each time it was a fraction harder, he needed rest. After he was sure Sherlock was fast asleep the Omega made his way to bed, rubbing his temples.

Little did the two know their peace was only the calm before the storm.

* * *

**Reviews make my heart sing and the chapters come faster :P**

**I know these first two chapters are not very exciting but I have to do the set up. **


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock leapt over the break between the two building effortlessly, landing softly on the concrete of the next. The criminal wouldn't outrun him for much longer, if he could move at his top speed he'd of already caught him, He would but it would cause too many questions.

"I'll cut him off at the end of the block." John informed summoning his wings, it was dark night, nobody would see.

Sherlock nodded enviously as John took off into the sky and into the cloud cover. Sherlock increased his speed slightly getting ready for the next jump, the man he was chasing was halfway through the air before he was forcibly stuck down.

Sherlock skidded to a halt in shock as a bolt of red lightning flew up from the gap between the buildings, tearing straight through the unfortunate soul's abdominal muscles and chest. The sheer intensity of the lighting kept him mid air for a few pregnant seconds before it ended and the now deceased man fell to the ground.

Without even thinking Sherlock jumped down the edge of the building, landing on a windowsill halfway down and lowering himself to the ground. The body was smouldering by the feet of a woman. Sherlock's hair was alight and his eyes burning instantly, he knew this woman.

She was an Alpha like him.

"Adler." He hissed.

"Sherlock." She smiled, her smile was cold, "I thought I'd help you out."

"That was stupid, that red lightning, far too noticeable." He growled, "People will talk."

"People do little else." She smirked.

She looked exactly the same as she had all those years ago, slim with dark eyes and jet black hair and pale skin. Her lips were painted the colour of blood.

"What do you want Adler?" He asked.

"Please Sherlock, call me Irene." She pleaded.

"Sherlock?"

John was looking for him.

"Oh, who's that then?" Irene asked, "Are the rumours true?"

John's face appeared above them for a few moments before the winged man hovered over the edge and landed softly at Sherlock's side. Irene smiled, genuinely this time, her eyes sparkled with glee.

"Oh how wonderful and Omega!" She gushed, "I heard there was one left."

Sherlock took a step forward, eyes blazing; Irene's instincts had her do the same. The woman looked positively demonic with white hair and eyes.

"John…" Sherlock whispered.

"On it." John nodded, eyes lighting up bright gold as he tried to read the Alpha's mind.

"Oh please we both know that wont work on me." She scoffed, John's eyes returned to normal and he rubbed his head, "Nothing."

"You should know better." Irene sighed, "And here I had such high hopes for you."

"We are stronger than you think." John replied, "What do you want?"

"I simply wanted to see if you were still around." She shrugged.

Sherlock scoffed, Irene was one of Alpha's Sherlock hated the most. She was manipulative and cruel with her powers. Without her Omega, Kate, she would be even more so. He did not trust her. Especially not after the dreams he'd been having. His data vision blazed, she was wearing designer clothes, her make up was very expensive, she's had a string of lovers, no clients. She had the signs of a prostitute but that label didn't fit…

"A dominatrix?" Sherlock almost laughed, "A woman with your abilities and you spend your days getting paid to hit people who get off on it? Pathetic."

"Maybe to you, but the things people will tell…" She grinned, "If you know what somebody likes you can go anywhere in the world."

"So why are you in an alleyway at night shooting serial killers with lightning?" John asked bitterly.

"Well, you're not as pretty as Kate was but-"

"No." Sherlock growled.

"I'm not usually a fan of sharing but I'm sure we can come up with something." She purred, "I could use an omega."

"No." John repeated Sherlock's reply.

"I couldn't heal you if I wanted to." John told her, "I only heal Sherlock."

"Oh we can make a weak bind I'm sure." Irene waved him off.

"Never." John looked slightly sick at the idea.

"Impossible." Sherlock replied, his head was beginning to throb dully, he'd had his data vision on for a while.

"Very possible." Irene countered

Sherlock pulled several bricks from the wall with his mind and flung them at the woman, she deflected them and sent the dumpster flying toward them in retaliation. John caught it and threw it to the side.

"Still healthy then." She mused, "Interesting."

She was testing them! Sherlock growled.

"Hey!" Sherlock yelled as he was lifted into the air by Irene's mind.

"Let me go!" he demanded.

John's hair and eyes lit up and he had picked up the dumpster again in seconds, holding threateningly above his head.

"Let him go." John growled.

"If you say so." Irene shrugged and flung Sherlock hard against the brick wall.

Sherlock saw stars for a moment and there was a large crash that he attributed to John throwing the dumpster at Irene and missing as she dodged. Sherlock picked himself up enough so that he was sitting up, hi shoulder twinged, great he'd dislocated it.

"I'll be seeing you around!" Irene laughed and then she was gone.

"Sherlock!"

John was at his side in seconds, healing rings working furiously at his shoulder as he forced it back into position. Sherlock winced involuntarily but otherwise stayed stone faced through the affair.

"Are you okay?" John asked holding Sherlock by his good shoulder.

The detective nodded.

"It's nothing."

"Don't scare me like that." John scolded resting his chin on Sherlock's head.

Sherlock felt a small amount of guilt worm its way into his gut, he knew John had nightmares about what they had dubbed 'the pool incident'.

_"I thought you'd died Sherlock!" John had explained later, "I thought you had died because I couldn't heal you fast enough."_

What a mess they were together. Sherlock was constantly over protective of John, fearing a life without him again. While John worried about failing and having Sherlock die because of him.

Sherlock turned his head slightly to the side as John hugged him; he spotted Irene hiding min the shadows behind the corner of the alley leading out to the dark street. Of course she stuck around to observe her handy work. He shot her a hard look.

As if to say, _'stay away. He's my brother, he's mine!'_

John didn't see her as she slipped away.

Sherlock made sure to be wary of his surrounds that night as they went home.

* * *

**Of course Irene is an alpha! :P Other than her I will have to make up a bunch of other characters since all the obvious ones are taken. **

**This scene was inspired by this picture I found on tumblr:**

** uluras reality . tumblr post / 29679781160 / sexlock - commission - capaow - some - super**

**I'm really pumped about this story, I've already written the next chapter :)**


	4. Chapter 4

When one is the flatmate and 'twin brother' of Sherlock Holmes you get used to walking in on some strange things. John was just on his way back from the surgery after a day of work when he opened the door and saw a pig strung up by the ceiling.

Sherlock was standing a small distance away levitating a strange greyish white goo with his mind and flinging at the pig. John wished this was the strangest thing he'd ever walked in on. In fact, this didn't even make the top ten.

"So, tea?" John asked without batting an eyelash.

"I can't drink tea now John, I'm getting closer!" Sherlock replied clearly frustrated.

"Closer to what?" John asked as he made his way to the kettle, knowing full well he was going to send Sherlock on one of his fun rants.

"Well once I managed to levitate liquids I thought perhaps I could use it as a weapon! Untraceable!" Sherlock explained eyes alight with excitement, "Of course I can't freeze water at will and I can hardly carry around ice bullets, that's when I came up with this!"

"The goo?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Corn-starch and water." Sherlock corrected, "A very interesting substance, normally it is a thick liquid."

Sherlock demonstrated by pouring it over his hand and watching as it dripped through his fingers like putty.

"But, when force is applied…" Sherlock grinned, grabbing his hammer and bring it down on a puddle of the stuff sitting on the table. It smashed like glass, shattering around the room and then turning back to goo.

"A solid that's only a solid when pressure is applied!" Sherlock grinned, "If I can learn to keep enough pressure on it with my mind and use it as a projectile simultaneously, I will have an 'impossible' weapon if we ever get in a tight spot!"

"That actually sounds pretty smart." John relented.

Sherlock grinned, obviously basking praise, not that his ego needed it. He then turned back to his experiment and began flinging the corn-starch at the pig. But every time it spattered against the skin harmlessly. Sherlock growled in frustration.

"You're going to be at this all night aren't you?" John smiled affectionately. Sherlock nodded. Sighing John gathered up a bowl, this would be entertaining.

"I'll make the popcorn."

-oOo-

Sherlock was in a foul mood the next morning, he'd been up all night trying to get his goo bullets to work with no success. John was about ready to start shooting the wall himself since Sherlock was driving him up it and making his head hurt. A text from Lestrade with a case was a God send.

However by the time they had arrived at the station John was beginning to regret coming, his headache was getting worse and once again Sherlock wasn't helping. The case had been simple enough, the detective had solved in within an few minutes just from crime scene photographs and a few trace pieces of evidence. Soon he was off on a rant about how the crook had done it and how the members of Scotland Yard were idiots for not realising it sooner.

John didn't bother listening, Sherlock wouldn't mind telling him gain later if it meant he'd praise him with his usual 'Amazing!'. He really should stop that his ego was big enough...

"Are you alright?"

John jumped from surprise and found non other than Sally Donovan looking at him.

"Oh yeah, fine." he lied still rubbing his temple. The pain was getting excruciating now.

"You look very tired." She noted.

Oh why did she have to say tired? Now he was feeling it himself and he wanted nothing more than to sink down into his bed and sleep for hours on end. Where was this fatigue coming from? He'd slept two nights ago.

"Just a headache." he lied again, silently praying that Sherlock would finish up soon.

"You're not letting that freak experiment on you right?" She asked looking sick. John felt his blood boil.

"No." He spat, "And do not call him a freak."

She shrugged like John was some ignorant child playing with a poisonous spider and walked off. Discreetly John tried to use his rings to stop the constantly pounding in his skull but they just seemed to make things worse. God he was tired...

"Come John," Sherlock called, "We're done here."

Finally.

"Hey John, are you alright mate?" Lestrade placed a hand on his shoulder, "You're pale."

"I'm fine, honestly!" He scoffed, he got enough coddling from Sherlock.

"You've got one of your headaches..." Sherlock noted.

"Come on, I'm knocking off now." Lestrade smiled, "I'll give you a lift back to Baker street."

"Really, it's fine Greg." John tried.

"Lestrade will be faster than a taxi." Sherlock pointed out, "Come along."

John didn't even need to open their connection to know Sherlock was getting worried about him. He leaned against the cool window as they drove, the cold soothed the pounding in his head somewhat.

"John, we're here." Sherlock nudged him gently, that's funny, he didn't remember closing his eyes.

He couldn't wait to get a cup of tea and then sink into bed for a couple of days. In his haste he stood up too quickly, only managing to take a few short steps onto the pavement before black spots began to dance across his vision. A pang of agony swept through his head, making him grip his face in an effort to make it stop. He blinked in an effort to clear them but this just resulted in more of his vision blurring and fading.

Vaguely he was aware that he was falling and somebody had caught him but his eyes were closed before he could see who it was. God he was so tired and his head hurt, he welcomes oblivion.

-oOo-

"John!"

Sherlock caught the Omega just in time,lowering him to the ground in his arms and shaking him gently.

"John, John!" he hissed, the unconscious man didn't stir.

"Sherlock, we need to get him inside," Lestrade whispered, "We're drawing a crowd."

He was right, a few quick glances around him revealed several pairs of eyes on himself and John. Nodding he carefully places one of the doctors arms around his shoulder and he other around Lestrade's and listed him from the ground. It took a bit of manoeuvring to get up the stairs but soon Sherlock was tucking John under the blankets of his bed while Lestrade wondered aloud.

"What happened?" He asked, "One minutes he's getting out of the car the next I see you both on the ground!"

"I don't know." Sherlock admitted, "He's been unwell lately."

"I thought it took a lot to get you two sick." Lestrade replied, he was the only one save Mycroft he knew the truth about them.

"Usually yes." Sherlock muttered, "Something is wrong."

_"I simply wanted to see if you were still around."_

Irene's words bounces around in his head. At the time he'd thought she was talking about survive Kell and Moriarty last year, now he was beginning to think she knew something he didn't. And that made him angry.

"So, what should we do?" Lestrade said finally.

"Now we wait."

* * *

**I have to say I was disappointed in myself when the last chapter got so few reviews. But I'm working on making this better :) Promise. **


	5. Chapter 5

_"Sherlock..."_

_"Sheeeeerlock..."_

_Sherlock snapped his head in the direction of the sound, somebody was calling him. He was in a long empty hallway, at the very end he could see a door, heavy and made of steel._

_Suspiciously he made his way toward it, the corridor seemed to reach out forever. Finally he did, the door nob felt icy cold under his palm. He forced the heavy door open and found himself standing in the training room of The Facility and Irene was standing there waiting for him. _

_"Nice of you to join us." She purred._

_"Us?" He asked._

_John stepped out from the shadows, his eyes glowing blood red and his face a mask of impassiveness. _

_"He's such a dear, never thinks about disobeying me." Irene cooed, "In fact he never really thinks at all."_

_She cupped John's face while the doctor stared on impassively just like when Moriarty had controlled him at the pool. _

_"He's my Omega now, you're no longer needed." Irene sighed, "Take care of him will you dear?"_

_Suddenly there was a gun in John's hand and it was pointing straight at the detective's chest._

_"John, it's me." Sherlock tried feeling nervous, "You fought Moriarty, you can fight now."_

_John kept staring before finally speaking._

_"I don't want to."_

_And he pulled the trigger_

_-oOo-_

Sherlock jolted awake, how had he managed to fall asleep? He was laying on the floor of John's room with some strange coat under his head being used as a pillow.

"Awake are we?" Lestrade teased lightly, "You were staring at him all glowed up for ages, guess you conked yourself out."

"I was using my data vision," Sherlock grumbled, "I was not 'glowed up' as you so archaically put it."

"I think it sounds kinda catchy actually." John cut in.

"John! You're awake!" Sherlock was on his feet in seconds.

"Yeah, have been for an hour now." He grinned, "Not that Lestrade has let me out of bed, no matter how many times I say I'm fine."

"Why didn't you wake me!" Sherlock demanded.

"You looked tired." John shrugged, "Lestrade told me you'd been staring at me for ages trying to deduce the problem."

"How do you feel?" Sherlock asked seriously, flipping on his data vision again and finding the exact same results. Nothing.

"I feel fine Sherlock now stop that." John scolded, "Will you two let me out of this bed now, I'm telling you I feel fine, no headache or anything."

"Well obviously you are not fine." Lestrade argued, "You went down like a sack of potatoes."

"Like a what?" Sherlock shot John's a look of extreme confusion.

"It's a saying Sherlock." John shook his head, grinning.

"Lestrade does have a point though," Sherlock replied, "We need to perform some experiments."

-oOo-

"Come on John!" Sherlock urged.

"No." John crossed his arms defiantly, "I've lifted weights, I've run around the gym four times already Sherlock, I am not flying through those hoops! I'm not a seal at Sea World!"

"Well obvious John." Sherlock drawled, "Seals don't fly."

"That's not the point." John scoffed.

The two were fortunate enough to still have access to the gym Mycroft had purchased for them some months ago when they were training for the confrontation with Moriarty. They had spent the morning checking John's strength and endurance, all seemed fine, he could lift a car over his head without breaking a sweat, run a half mile in one minute and swim perfectly fine.

"John, this is the perfect way for you to practice your speed and agility in the air, plus I can practice my telekinesis." Sherlock argued.

"Practice? You mastered floating hoops in the air when you were nine!"

"Please, John." Sherlock pouted.

"Oh fine." John pulled a face and summoned his wings.

Sherlock floated several large hoops into the air and quickly indicated what order John was to fly through them in and readied his stop watch.

The test was fairly easy, John made the circuit in less than a minute. For a few moments Sherlock was beginning to think John was right and that he'd simply been over tired.

John, was getting quite tired of Sherlock's tests, mentally and physically. But he knew how Sherlock could worry, so he humored him, though he promised himself to put his foot down after this flying test, he felt like an animal performing at a circus.

"Okay, last time I promise." Sherlock called and began to move the hoops around in circles as they floated, now John was going to have to do some serious maneuvering in order to get through them all quickly.

John grinned at the challenge.

He swooped and dove through the shifting hoops, actually quite enjoying himself, it had been a while since he'd given himself a challenge like this in the air. One hoop was left on the circuit, John headed for it, grin still of his face.

But then the whole world tipped sideways and blurred around the edges. Stopping before he ran into anything the Omega shook his head in an effort to ward away the blurriness, the result was the whole world spinning. He barely felt his wings disappear, only noticing when he began to plummet to the ground.

"John!"

The detective caught the doctor as he fell, the force knocking them both to the ground, Sherlock recovered quickly sitting up and helping John to do the same. The doctor groaned, clutching his head.

"John? John!" Sherlock would hate how panicked his voice sounded right now.

"It's all right Sherlock." John gently pushed him away, "I just got dizzy for a second there."

Sherlock opened their connection in order to test how much pain John was in. John almost chuckled as his mind was bombarded with thoughts all flowing over the top of one another.

_Is he alright? Why did that happen? Did I push him to hard? I should of stopped when he told me to! What is going on? What's making him sick? Why can't I figure it out? Why can't I help? _

_Sherlock relax..._

John forced calming thoughts into the detectives brain.

"I probably just dove to fast is all." John replied weakly getting to his feet only to stumble, he'd of face planted if Sherlock hadn't caught him in time.

"I was pushing you too far." Sherlock muttered, "We need to get you home so you can rest."

"I'm not an invalid." John groaned.

"Yes, let's keep it that way."

* * *

**Thank you to those who reviewed! I got a bunch of reviews on the last chapter and as always, fast reviews = faster updates!**

**Virtual cookies to anybody who can guess whats wrong with John. **


	6. Chapter 6

He must of fallen asleep on the way back from their gym because the next thing John knew he was lying on the couch at Baker Street. His head felt as if it were filled with rocks, heavy and sinking into the soft pillow it was lying on. Sherlock was crouched by his side looking at him so intensely he almost jumped in surprise.

"Ah good I thought you were waking up." He smiled.

John went to raise his head but quickly decided it was a bad idea when a pang of pain hit him.

"Ouch..." He hissed, carefully lowering his head back down on the Union Jack pillow.

"I'm going to take a blood sample, alright?" Sherlock hushed, "Then I am going to Barts to look for answers."

"Alright." John sighed weakly offering up his arm, barely feeling the needle slip under his skin.

His eyes fluttered closed again.

"Go to sleep, John." Sherlock ordered softly.

So he did.

-oOo-

After making sure Mrs. Hudson knew to check John every now and then the Alpha made his way over to the hospital. He'd of preferred to study the blood sample at Baker street and keep an eye on John himself but his microscope was not nearly as powerful as Bart's.

Molly let him in and he quickly shot her his 'do not disturb me or else' look to dissuade any ideas she had of 'helping' him. The first thing he did was deposit some of the sample into the mass spectrometer to search for any sort of pathogen. Nothing.

No poisons, not even caffeine, adrenaline or alcohol of any kind.

Next he placed a sample on a slide for the strongest microscope available. Any other person would be shocked and amazed to find many tiny round robots floating amongst the blood cells but Sherlock was not.

Red and white blood cell count was fine, no alien materials unless you count the nanobots but in John that was perfectly normal. Sherlock growled in frustration, no germs or anything! No explanation at all! By all rights John should be perfectly healthy!

Wait a moment.

Sherlock's keen eyes finally saw something out of the ordinary.

One of the nanobots he was currently looking at was non operational. Dead.

Usually the small round robots were a shiny silver colour, like stainless steal. That one was a dull grey.

Actually several of them were.

He felt his jaw drop as he watched one blink out of life right before his very eyes.

Of course this was not totally unusual, when they were damaged in some way this happened but John could repair them without even having to think. They never stopped working on their own before and he'd seen John try and use his rings days ago to ease his headaches but they had not worked.

John should be able to fix them but he wasn't they were shutting down, permanently.

That wasn't right!

Quickly he took a sample of his own blood and placed it on another slide. His nanobots were fine.

That made no sense, they were both dosed with the same nanobots when they were children, that's why they didn't know if the child would be an Alpha or an Omega until the transformation was complete. How is it there was something wrong with John's but not his?

A cold feeling passed over the detective, what if Moriarty had done something more to John when he wasn't there?

No, impossible. It had been nearly a year since Moriarty had been killed, if he'd of done something it would of been showing much earlier than this.

There must be something, he's missing something! And if there is anything that Sherlock Holmes hated, it was not being on top of things.

What was he-oh. Oh!

Yes, they were dosed with the same nanobots initially but after the transformation took place they had to be dosed dozens of times for their various skills. John's for Omega skills, him for Alpha's.

So perhaps that was it? A defect in the Omega nanobots? Impossible.

They wanted them to live, they were an expensive investment the Alphas and Omegas. Everything was triple checked before it was tested, those scientists were vastly intelligent, how could this of passed them by?

It took him several long minutes in his mind palace to find the answer, it was something he had discovered years ago and filed away. Back when the Omega's began dying in the 'experiment' meant to get rid of them.

_Quietly Sherlock slunk from his room to the venting shaft and made quick work of it and slinking inside. He'd figured out how to do this years ago in order to spy on his captors. He'd of left The Facility entirely by now were it now for the trackers attached to the skin around his left ankle. The device would turn the nanobots within his body against him if he left the area._

_After several minutes of climbing through the tight metal he reached the main computer room, another three minutes to glitch the security camera and four to hack into the computer system. Finally he found the file he was looking for and almost instantly wished he hadn't._

_Omega Extermination._

_It wasn't an experiment, it was murder disguised as an experiment._

_The Omegas were a temporary measure right from the beginning..._

A temporary measure.

They knew right from the start that they were going to kill off the Omega's and they knew when. Give the nanobots a few years extra, just to be safe and then thats it. According to their plan John was supposed to die five years ago, so there was no point in making sure his, or any of the other Omega's nanobots were strong enough to last a life time.

Oh no. Oh this was bad!

Sherlock began to pace the length of the room. Without his nanobots John would be weak, he'd practically grown up with them in his system he couldn't live without them now. It would be like the worst drug withdrawal imaginable.

It would be like removing all the white blood cells from a normal human, or their heart or lungs. His body _needs _those nanobots to work!

John was dying.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and hurriedly made his way back to Baker Street. He had to find a way to save John.

* * *

**Congrats Sup 22 for coming the closest to guessing what was wrong with John. Aside from a few small details here and there you were pretty much spot on! **

**That Memory is an extract from the first story, just so you all know.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Sherlock you're giving yourself a headache." John sighed.

The detective was sitting in at the kitchen table with his data vision going full force as he stared at the blood samples again, simultaneously scribbling notes as he went and cross them out. After coming home yesterday he'd explained the situation to John, who actually took it rather well, which made Sherlock feel even worse.

_"I've basically just told you that you're dying and you're not even panicking a little."_

_"I don't see the point. You'll figure something out. If anybody can save me it's you."_

John had much too much faith in him. The conversation had seemed awfully reminiscent of their conversation in the alleyway after he killed that man, Max, for electrocuting John.

"Sherlock, turn your data vision off before you collapse from exhaustion," John tried, "You've practically had it on non stop since you got home."

Sighing, Sherlock did as he said, he was getting nowhere with this anyway. Instead he reached for his laptop and looked up all he could on what Irene Adler had been doing since he'd last seen her five years ago.

As he suspected she was a dominatrix, her website was enough to make Sherlock's stomach twist in disgust. He also found several news reports with her included, always because of her 'misbehavior' with people of importance. He almost laughed when he read the article about the novelist whose marriage had ended as she had been sleeping with both members of it, separately.

Idly he wondered how she'd gotten away from the FBI or where ever it was that she was sent but that was not important. She was now a problem to him. From what he gathered she slept with people, stole secrets and used them as black mail. The latter he could respect, the former not so much.

"We are going to see Irene Adler." Sherlock said finally.

"You think she can help us?" John questioned looking wary.

"No, but I believe she may know something more about this illness of yours." Sherlock replied grabbing his coat.

"How would she know more than you?" John asked as he followed Sherlock down the stairs.

"We both know Irene and what she was like even a few years ago John," Sherlock replied, "Odds are, she knew what one of the scientists at The Facility liked."

-oOo-

"Stay close." Sherlock whispered as they entered Irene's house without knocking, "She wants an Omega remember."

John nodded.

Irene had done well for herself, her home was evidence of that. The place was huge and lavish, why a woman living alone would need so much room was beyond John. There were paintings everywhere, portraits mostly of people John didn't know. They all seemed to stare at him unnaturally. There was something wrong with their eyes but he couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly.

"Try and fine a safe." Sherlock ordered, "She has to keep all this blackmail somewhere."

They searched the house, making sure they were within eye sight of each other at all times. When they found her bedroom John couldn't help but be thankful she wasn't in, very grateful she wasn't with a client either. He gaped at the sheer amount of clothing she owned and blushed when he discovered a box labeled 'Toys'.

They had made their way down into the last room, a small and very white lounge, when another voice joined theirs.

"It's not polite to snoop."

Irene stood in the doorway, in a white dress looking like she'd just come back from a business meeting. Not her kind of business though.

"You know something about John's nanobot and how to fix them." Sherlock said simply. It wasn't a question.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Let me guess, you 'knew what they liked'?" John muttered, she nodded again.

"I'll negotiate the release of the information." Irene purred taking a seat by the window while John and Sherlock sat on the couch.

"It's a trade." She said simply.

"In exchange for the information I need to save John, you want him to become your Omega." Sherlock surmised.

"I'm not a piece of furniture you know." John argued, "I can't just be bough, sold and traded!"

"My line of work gets me in trouble with people," Irene explained, "Without my phone, I'd be as good as dead."

"So that's where you keep your information." Sherlock mused, eyeing the camera phone Irene had produced from her pocket.

"Don't even think about taking it dear, you couldn't guess the passcode anyway." She sneered, "Either way, it would be good to have some extra protection and a doctor around."

"I don't have a connection with you." John argued, "Nor do I want one."

"A connection can be forced." Irene shrugged, "I have...ways, of making you stay here with me instead of running back to Sherlock."

"Not likely." John growled.

Sherlock stood, as did Irene. Both had eyes and hair ablaze with white, staring at one another intently.

"Tsk tsk, you don't want kill me." Irene growled.

"I think I do." Sherlock added, "I can guess your passcode, believe me."

"And what if you don't?" She purred, "Then you have no hope of saving him."

John stood too, his eye glowed, ready to fight. It was mostly a bluff however, he was already getting tired. Neither Irene nor Sherlock was making the first move, in fact they were watching one another intently, they seemed to of forgotten he was there. One of the advantages of being an Omega meant that, even in his weakened state, he was stronger and faster than the Alphas.

So he made the first move and barreled toward Irene.

As expected she was taken by surprise and only just managed to dodge his tackle in time. The air was suddenly filled with flashes of blue and red and lightning sparked through the air. John watched from the side lines feeling very tired already, stupid nanobots. He could see the pocket Irene had slipped her phone into, she was distracted by her fight with Sherlock, if he could just reach it...

The doctor leapt forward and by some miracle, felt his hand close around the phone, unfortunately Irene also noticed and before John could do anything he felt himself flying through the air and slamming into a wall.

His head exploded with pain and his hands both shot to it, gripping his hair in an effort to stop it. It was only then he realized that he'd let go of the phone when he fell.

-oOo-

Sherlock reacted the quickest, grabbing the phone from mid air as it fell from John's fingers and quickly stepping between the Omega and Irene. One hand gripped the phone, the other was outstretched and filled with a crackling ball of electricity pointing straight at the woman's heart.

"Foolish of you to take us on together." Sherlock drawled trying not to get distracted by the fact that John had already passed out. With his nanobots failing the fight was too much for him.

"Yes well, I am still counting on your most predictable trait." Irene sighed, not looking worried at all.

"And what's that?" Sherlock asked.

"You're arrogance." She replied reaching into her other pocket.

"Wha-"

_Click._

A shooting pain suddenly traveled up Sherlock's arm, shocked he turned and saw a small needle sticking out of it.

"What? Wha-what is that?" He ripped the needle out with his free hand, already begining to feel dizzy.

Irene held up a small remote from the pocket she had reached into.

"You don't think I keep all these portraits in here because I think they look good do you?" She smirked.

Oh, a booby trap. There were tranquilizer darts hidden behind the eyes of the paintings. Irene always did have a talent for technology. Idiot! He should of used his data vision to check the room over first, then he'd of seen them.

"Drop it!" Irene demanded, reaching forward and kicking Sherlock down.

"No!"

"Give it to me!" She demanded bringing a heel down against Sherlock's face.

"N-no..."

"Oh for goodness sakes..." She sighed.

"I."

_Kick_

"Said."

_Kick._

"Drop it!"

_Kick._

Bang!

He slammed against the floor, whatever she'd injected him with it was strong to of taken him down so easily. His vision was already fuzzing at the edges.

"Ah, thank you dear." Irene smiled picking up the phone, "Now, when you are ready to make our deal come and find me. Until then, goodnight."

* * *

**I know this chapters seems a bit redundant at the moment but it's necessary believe me. Otherwise things wont make sense later. **

**Things are going to get darker from this point in. There is a scene between Irene and Sherlock I've been planning for SO LONG and I'll get to write it somewhere within the next few chapters! YAY!**


	8. Chapter 8

The minute the report had come in Lestrade had taken it, despite it not being his division.

_Domestic disturbance, sounds of yelling from within the house and strange flashes of blue and red light. Sounds of small explosions and electricity. _

It had to be Sherlock and John.

When they reached the address the house was silent, and really everything looked fine. At least until he reached the lounge room. The place was littered with scorch marks and over turned furniture, it was going to take forever to clear up. What was most concerning however were the two unconscious bodies on the floor.

John was curled in on himself facing away from the wall while Sherlock was a few meters away sprawled on his back. At least they were both breathing.

"John." Lestrade called giving the man a light shake, "John, wake up!"

The doctor groaned but didn't wake. This was not good. If the rest of the squad came in here they would call and ambulance and have the men taken to hospital, which would be disastrous. If doctors got a look at their bodies, or god forbid their blood, things would be more than a little out of hand. The inspector turned to Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" he hissed, "Come on, I need you to wake up now before the others find you like this..."

"Mmmphf..."

"Sherlock!"

"Lest'de." The detective mumbled, blinking his eyes before sitting up rather quickly.

"The phone." Sherlock said with a small amount of panic in his voice, "Where's the phone?"

"Listen Sherlock you were probably dream-"

"No, Lestrade Irene Adler's phone! I had it." Sherlock argued, "I need it to-John! Is John alright?"

Alright, so he'd obviously been drugged.

"Sherlock, John is right next to you." Lestrade explained, "But I can't wake him, what happened?"

"Adler." Sherlock hissed.

The detective gave the doctor a light shake, again he moaned but didn't wake. Sherlock placed a hand over John's.

"He's in pain, Lestrade." Sherlock growled, "We need to get him back to Baker Street."

-oOo-

Getting an unconscious man back to Baker Street without alerting Lestrade's men was no easy feat but eventually Sherlock was placing the blanket over the sleeping doctors form. He was such an idiot, John was already weakening he should of taken him into a fight! Discreetly he took another blood sample, two thirds of the nanobots were offline already.

"Sh-Sherlock?" John cracked an eye open, "Wh' happened?"

"She got away, I lost the phone." Sherlock replied, "I'm sorry. I can't go after her again, we're too evenly matched and with that phone she's got the advantage."

"S'okay." John shifted, grimacing, "Not your faul' you'll figure something out."

"Sherlock bit his lip.

"I'll try."

-oOo-

Lestrade was beginning to worry about the boys at Baker street. It had been three days since the incident at Adler's house and there had been no word from Sherlock on John's condition. He'd tried calling but neither of them had picked up, regardless of which phone he called. He was actually planning on going to see them in person when Molly of all people rang.

"Hello Molly." He greeted, "What's the occasion?"

"Sherlock." She replied nervously, "Umm see there is this rumor that he had a history of drug usage right?"

Lestrade suddenly felt cold.

"Yes." He replied slowly, "Why?"

"Well, uh you see the other day, well actually it was this morning," She began, "He was in the labs when he started shouting and then when he left I noticed one of the bottles of liquid morphine was gone."

"And you're waiting until now to tell me?" Lestrade exclaimed, he could of injected himself half a dozen times by now!

"I didn't think of it until now." Molly admitted.

"I'll go check on him."

Lestrade hung up and promptly drove to Baker street, worry gnawing at his stomach. What if John had died and Sherlock had relapsed? No, he'd of heard if John was dead surely.

He didn't bother knocking when he reached Baker Street, opting to run up the stairs and call for Sherlock, no reply. He checked the detectives room but found it empty, he was about to head up the stairs to John's when the Alpha appeared in the doorway.

"Lestrade, what are you-"

Ignoring Sherlock's greeting the inspector grabbed his wrist and forced his sleeves up on both arms. No new track marks.

"Is this some new social greeting I'm unaware of?" Sherlock asked dryly.

"No, Molly called and said you took-"

"Oh that. You thought I was using again." Sherlock scoffed looking offended, "Honestly, what will it take to convince you that I'm clean?"

"Well, you did steal a canister of morphine, that doesn't help your case." Lestrade argued.

"Well I needed it and I couldn't buy it without people asking questions." Sherlock bit back.

"Why do you need it?" Lestrade asked.

A moan echoed down from John's room.

"It's the only thing strong enough." Sherlock muttered leading Lestrade up the stairs.

John was in bed but he was twisted up in the blankets looking horrific, he was pale and shifting constantly. Even Lestrade could tell he was in serious pain, right now he seemed to be conscious, though hardly. John gripped the sheets so hard Lestrade was afraid he'd rip them.

Sherlock reached over and grabbed the metal bottle containing the morphine and tipped the doctors head upwards.

"Here," he offered softly, "Drink."

"Thanks." John coughed after he'd sipped some of the liquid. His body relaxed.

"Pain's getting worse." Lestrade chewed his lip, Sherlock nodded.

"I'll be fine." John croaked, liar.

"Go back to sleep John." Sherlock ordered, "You can't do much else anyway."

"Watch it." He grumbled, but he smiled while he did it.

Sherlock was silent until they reached the kitchen, where he promptly grabbed the first thing in reach, a tea cup, and flung against the wall. The detective gripped his hair and pulled groaning frustratedly.

"I've tried everything!" He yelled, "Everything I can think of to recreate the nanobots or repair them but...nothing works."

"You'll think of something." Lestrade tried, attempting to hold Sherlock's shoulder but he flinched away.

"He's got two days left, maximum." The detective whispered, "He's in pain and I can't do a thing about it!"

"Calm down Sherlock you're no use to him like this." Lestrade sighed.

The detective took a deep breath.

"I need to see somebody, stay with him." He ordered, emotionless mask slipping back in place.

"Wait, what? Where are you going?" Lestrade asked as the detective brushed past him.

"To see Irene." he growled.

**Remember that scene I was talking about? The one I'm really excited to write? Guess what? It's in the next chapter! YAY!**


	9. Chapter 9

_"Sh-Sherlock!"_

_John ran a hand through his hair, face scrunched up in an effort to ignore the pain that was currently coursing through his body. Ever since the fight at Irene's it had been getting steadily worse, the morphine helped but they had to be careful. They couldn't have him constantly drugged without having side effects, but without the drug he was in pain. _

_Sherlock forced calm, happy feelings through their connection but it did little good._

_"D-don't." John muttered, "I can't feel you getting desperate..."_

_"Are you sure you can't have more morphine yet?" Sherlock twitched._

_"A little long-argh!"_

_The doctor curled in on himself involuntarily._

_"Sherlock..." He sobbed. _

_"I don't care what you say you're drinking that morphine!" Sherlock ordered, his voice shaking slightly. _

_It was painfully easy to shift John against his will and force him to swallow the drug. Coughing weakly John sagged back down into the pillows as Sherlock lowered him, groaning when the contact was cut off. _

_"You don't need to stay here you know..." John rasped, now looking at Sherlock with hazy, drug fogged eyes._

_"I'm not leaving you alone." Sherlock replied simply._

_"Sorry...to be so much trouble." John muttered. _

_"It's all right." Sherlock hushed, "Just rest. Please."_

_-_oOo-

Any doubt about what he was about to do was gone with that memory, Sherlock starred out the window of the cab emotionlessly. He was almost at Irene's place, she would be expecting him no doubt.

Keeping his mask in place he made his way to the door.

_Do it for John. _

Irene smiled when she opened the door, without a word she motioned him side. This time Sherlock didn't venture further than the foyer, there were none of her paintings here, she could have other traps of course but he doubted it.

"You didn't bring John." She sighed, "I told you I won't tell you or give you the information unless you transfer him to me."

"I came here to talk to you." Sherlock replied, hands clasped behind his back, looking her straight in the eye.

"Are you here to beg?" She jibbed.

Deep Breath.

_Do it for John._

"Yes."

Irene's face went from coy and joking to shocked in seconds. Sherlock Holmes never begged in his life.

"Please." He begged, looking at the floor.

"Please." He repeated, "Help him, or at least tell me how to heal him."

Sherlock clenched his hands into fists so hard he could feel his nails digging into the skin.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Irene mocked.

Sherlock ground his teeth together. Images of John back at Baker Street, writhing due to the pain flitted through his memory.

"He really means that much to you?" Irene mused.

_Do it for John. Do it for John._

Irene was standing less than a meter away from him now, he could see her shoes as he stared at the floor. Scrunching his eyes closed he sunk to the ground until his as on his knees, palms flat on the floor, head still bowed. His eyes stung.

"Save him." he choked, "Please, I can't loose him."

"Desperate aren't we?" irene mused standing over him still, Sherlock was very glad he wasn't looking at her. He hadn't a single shred of dignity left, he couldn't bare the mocking in her eyes, though he knew eventually he'd have to.

"I'll do anything." He added softly, "Anything but hand him over, please."

"Anything?" Irene purred, kneeling down in front of him.

Her tone was dripping with innuendo, it made Sherlock's stomach twist.

"Anything." he confirmed.

"Hmmm," Irene hummed, lifting Sherlock's chin so he was forced to look at her.

"I'll admit that's a tempting offer." She sighed, but then proceeded to flick her fingers against his face and stand again.

"But no dice. I need an Omega's protection more." She continued, "I'm afraid it's you transfer John over to me, or nothing."

Sherlock nearly screamed in frustration and embarrassment.

Somewhat weakly he picked himself off the floor and headed for the door. He tried to maintain his mask of emotionlessness but he knew from Irene's grin that he looked as dejected as he felt.

"There is nothing else I can do to convince you?" He tried just as he stood in the doorway.

"No."

The entire exchange had been short but fruitless and humiliating. Sherlock must of shown it when he got into the cab because the driver gave him a look of pity and asked what's wrong.

_My only friend in the entire world is dying a painful death because of the nanobots an abusive organization injected into him as a child are shutting down and taking him with them. _Sherlock thought.

"Girlfriend broke up with me." He muttered. As expected the response bred silence which was fine with the detective.

-oOo-

"Sherlock..." John moaned, face scrunched up and one hand pulling at his hair.

"He'll be back soon John." Lestrade tried, even though he'd accepted that the man wasn't quite conscious at the moment. He reminded the inspector of a child with a fever, not quite understand what was going on around him.

"M-morphine..."

"There isn't much left mate, we need to make sure it lasts." Lestrade tried for the third time.

John groaned and curled in on himself. It was harsh but true, there was only enough for one more dose before the canister would be empty. Finally he heard the door open and close downstairs, Sherlock was finally back!

When he didn't hear him continue up the stairs however Lestrade became concerned.

"Sherlock?" He called, heading down the stairs from John's room to the landing, "Sherlock is that you? I could really use your help, John's not doing...so well."

Lestrade trailed off when he got halfway down the stairs to the doorway, Sherlock was sitting on the floor with his back against the door with his head in his hands. Lestrade had never seen Sherlock cry before, some how that made it ten times worse. When he'd seen Sherlock on the roof of St. Barts after John had fallen Lestrade had never feel so terrified. The man had so much fury the inspector feared for his own life as well as the detectives. But this, this wasn't fury, it was hopelessness. He was torn between comforting the man and leaving him be, with Sherlock it was very hard to know what action would give him the most comfort.

Carefully he approached the detective hand hovering over his shoulder, unsure as to whether he should touch it or not. Sherlock looked up slightly, grey eyes finding Lestrade's.

Once more Lestrade was reminded of a child. Lost and desperately looking for somebody who could give him the answer. Greg wished he did.

Finally he lowered his hand and squeezed the mans shoulders in a way he hoped would be reassuring. Sherlock let out a low sound somewhere between a sob and a whimper.

"I begged her." he whispered, "_Begged, _on my knees, for her to save him."

That was a mental image that Lestrade simply couldn't conjure.

"She said no." Sherlock sobbed, "She'll only do it if I hand him over."

"I'm sorry." Lestrade replied, simply because he didn't have anything else to say.

"I...I can't loose him but no matter which choice I make I will." Sherlock continued, "I don't know what to do, Lestrade. Tell me what to do...please."

"I don't know either." Lestrade admitted, quickly grabbing his phone from his pocket, "I'm going to go and get you more morphine for John he's almost out."

"Thank you."

"I'll get an officer to drop it over, alright?" Lestrade said quietly, "I have to go back to the station."

Sherlock nodded, regaining his composure and standing.

"I-I need to go check on John." he muttered walking past Lestrade and up the stairs.

It took all of Lestrade's strength not to follow him but he knew right now Sherlock needed John much more than he needed him.

* * *

**That scene between Sherlock and Irene had been bouncing around in my head for AGES! Ah, I aimed for 'heartbreaking in this chapter, hope I delivered! **


	10. Chapter 10

Why did it have to be her? Couldn't some other faceless lackey on Lestrade's team play delivery service? She'd been looking forward to heading straight home and enjoying a bath after a particularly stressful day but instead she got tossed a canister and told to take it to the Freak's place of residence.

She hadn't really looked at what it was until she arrived, morphine. How stupid can Lestrade be? Even she knew of the man's past with drugs and morphine had been a favourite of his along with cocaine.

But Lestrade had made her swear she'd give it to him, it was of the utmost importance apparently. Oh well, she didn't care if that unfeeling monster OD'd.

An elderly woman opened the door for her and told her to head up the stairs, she looked very worried about something. Sally didn't ask, it wasn't her business. She headed upstairs and entered their living room but nobody was there, great she'd come all this way for nothing.

Then somebody yelled above her, wasn't there a bedroom up there? Another yell, though this time it was more of a scream. Quickly she ran up the stairs, fully prepared to fight off some attacker but what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

John was positively writhing on the bed, arching his back, moaning and yelling in agony. Sherlock was sitting next to him, holding him down to stop his flailing limbs from hitting anything.

"Stop! Stop it…oh God I-I can't…" John rambled.

"I know." Sherlock hushed, "I know I'm sorry."

"It hurts-argh!" John's back arched and he attempted to squirm away from Sherlock's touch but was evidently to weak, "I can't breathe! Sher-Sherlock! Make it stop…please."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sally was so taken aback she didn't speak, the detective, who was usually so observant, missed her presence entirely. It was only when the door finally came to rest against the wall with a thump that the detective's eyes found her, or most specifically, the canister she was holding.

"What are you standing there for?" He yelled angrily, "Give me the canister!"

Without thinking she walked over and handing it to him. Without even thinking about it the man let go of the flailing doctor and unscrewed the lid before carefully propping the doctor up.

"Here John, drink." He offered, John turned away deliriously.

"Come on," Sherlock urged, "It will make you feel better. Please John."

Finally, Sherlock poured a generous amount of the drug into John's mouth, making him cough and splutter slightly. After a few tense seconds of heavy breathing the doctor's eyes slipped closed and he went limp in Sherlock's arms.

"Is there any reason you are still inflicting your presence upon me?" Sherlock asked bitterly as he lowered John back onto his pillows. The doctor was now out cold; the pain had been the only thing keeping him awake.

"Holmes, he's seriously ill!"

"Yes, I noticed." He bit back.

"He should be in hospital." Sally insisted.

"A hospital will do nothing to help him." Sherlock argued.

"Look I know you think you are God-On-Earth but he needs a proper doctor!" Sally argued, while she didn't particularly like John he was a good man. It was his crazy brother whom she hated.

"Doctors can't do anything!" Sherlock bellowed, "Can't you use your ears!"

John groaned in his sleep and Sherlock promptly shut up and sat back down on the bed. Slowly he pushed John's fringe from where it had plastered itself against his face, stuck down by sweat. The movement could only be described as tender.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked quietly, Sherlock tensed.

"Genetic disorder." He said finally, "Hereditary, it crops up every few generations in a single family member. John got it."

"Isn't there something a doctor could-"

"No cure." Sherlock cut in. "Now please. Leave."

-oOo-

John had maybe 24 hours left at most, Sherlock sighed. He carried up a small bowl of the chicken noodle soup he was so fond of for John.

"John." He called gently, "John wake up."

"Mmmph…"

"That's it." Sherlock carefully helped lean him up in a sitting position against the headboard.

"Here, try and eat something." Sherlock floated a small ball of soup towards John's mouth and dropped it in.

John managed three mouthfuls before he turned away.

"No luck?" John croaked. Sherlock shook his head.

"I'm sorry." He choked.

"S'all right." John muttered looking at Sherlock through hazy eyes, "I'm not angry with you, it's not your fault."

"I have to take you to Adler." Sherlock whispered, "I can't let you die, knowing there is something I could do."

"I'd rather die than be stuck serving her for the rest of my life." John replied with as much energy as he could, "We're equals, she'll make me a servant."

"But you'd be alive." Sherlock replied, "I will not watch you die!"

"Close you eyes…" John muttered, following his own advice.

"John?" Sherlock felt a small amount of panic beginning to bubble up, "No. Wait, don't you dare go yet!"

"Shr'lock…"

"I don't care what you say, I'm making the deal with Adler." Sherlock bit his lip, "Once you're healthy again you can get away from her. Come back here."

John nodded weakly.

"Pr'mise" He muttered.

"I will come an get you as soon as I can," Sherlock pressed his forehead to Johns, "If you can't get away on your own. I promise."

-oOo-

Getting John into a cab had been no easy feat, he managed to convince the driver that he was drugged and had to get to their house to get the cure. Like an idiot the cabbie believed him, Sherlock had never been so thankful that most people were idiots.

He didn't bother to knock, instead he half carried half dragged John to the lounge and laid him down against it. He wasn't responding anymore, but he was still breathing, just.

"Adler!" he bellowed, "Adler!"

"No need to shout darling." She replied, appearing in the doorway

"Now, cure him. I'll make your deal!" Sherlock replied quickly, "But hurry!"

"Excellent!" She beamed, facing lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

Sherlock took a step back, thankfully she let him stay as she made her way over to John.

"I should explain how I'm going to do this, as you wont be able to watch." She drawled, "Can't have to stealing him away."

"It's simple enough, those nanobots have a battery life of roughly 35 years, so I'm going to recharge them."

As she explained her fingers crackled and red lightning formed between them. Oh why didn't he think of that? A recharge using his own lighting!

The obvious thing was, this was going to hurt John, Sherlock would dismiss anything that hurt John.

"Well, off you pop." She waved, "Bye-Bye Sherlock!"

Sherlock gritted his teeth, she wasn't going to complete the recharge until he left and the sooner he left, the sooner he'd be shut out of John's life forever. But on the other hand, John needed help now before he was lost.

Ignoring every part of his body, which was screaming at him not to leave, he slowly made his way to the door. It slammed shut behind him, he could hear the crackle of electricity from beyond the door, he'd almost made his way out the front door when the screaming started.

* * *

**I hate to tell you guys this but I'm off to Japan for two weeks on Friday! Which means no updates for two weeks. As much as I love writing I'm not going to spend my holiday writing fanfiction :P I will try and update before Friday but otherwise I'm afraid you will have to wait.**


	11. Chapter 11

John felt himself slowly waking up, his body was heavy and sore all over but the blinding agony was gone. He felt as though he'd just run a marathon but otherwise, fine. What had happened? He had been talking with Sherlock, yes, he could feel himself slipping then, Sherlock was…sad. Then nothing. Had Sherlock done it? Had he cured him?

Stiffly he opened his eyes and found himself staring at a high ceiling with gold light fittings. This wasn't Baker Street.

Groaning as his joints protested he sat up, the room was fairly simple but it had a classy touch. Though the furniture was sparse it was of high quality, the sheets on his bed were silk. His shoulder gave a twinge of pain, it had always been more sensitive than the rest of his body due to the scar and without thinking he summoned his rings and began to heal it.

His rings! They were back!

Smiling to himself he set about stopping the aches of his still healing body. A few minutes and he'd be as good as new.

The door clicked as somebody turned the handle.

"Sherlock?" John called hopefully; his hopes were dashed when Irene entered.

"No, just me." She smiled, "How are we feeling? You've been sleeping for a long time."

"How long?"

"A day or so." She waved; Sherlock would of told him approximately, down to the second.

"Why am I here?" John asked feeling dread pool in his stomach.

"I saved you, in exchange Sherlock has left." She smiled, "You're my Omega now."

"No. I'm not!" He growled getting out of the expensive sheets, "I'm leaving."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you…" Irene warned.

"Why not?" John dared.

Irene held up another of her little remotes, how many of those did she have? This one only had one button on it.

"You see, I knew you'd try running back to Sherly as soon as you could so I made sure to get some, insurance." She grinned, "That dart didn't just hold sedative."

John had been unconscious already at the time but Sherlock had explained the dart and how he'd lost the phone. Any other day Sherlock would of examined himself to check the contents of the poison, but he'd been preoccupied with John.

"What did you do to him?" John hissed.

"I just added a few thousand extra nanobots to his body." She smiled, "One's of my own design housing a very powerful set of chemicals. Separate, within the nanobot they are completely harmless, but if they were to be released into the bloodstream, if they were to mix…the results would be very unpleasant."

"What. Did. You. Do?" John stalked toward her trying his best to look threatening.

"An acid of my own design." She smiled, "He'll be perfectly fine as long as those nanobots do not get the signal to release their toxins."

"And if I leave-"

"I press the button." Irene finished.

"He'll find them, he'll remove them." John argued.

"How?" Irene asked, "They look exactly like his usual ones, and you certainly wont have the chance to tell him, even if you do, I'll find out long before he finds a way to remove them."

John's hands curled into fists. He hated this woman.

He wished he were as smart as Sherlock, he'd know what to do.

"Now, don't sulk." Irene cooed, "You'll grow to like it here, promise. Maybe if you're good you can borrow some of my clients some time."

John's insides churned at the idea of sleeping with people for profit.

"Now, let's get this bond over with." Irene smiled holding up her palm, "I have a headache and you're rings wont work unless you're bonded."

Dejectedly John placed his hand over hers. It took some time, not like with Sherlock, but eventually he could feel Irene worming her way into his head. They managed a superficial bond; he could sense her top layer of thoughts and vice versa. It wasn't like his bond with Sherlock where he could see everything, he was glad.

"That will have to do." Irene sighed, "It's enough. Now, my headache."

Fighting the urge he slap her John summoned his rings and placed them against her temples. This was his life now then.

-oOo-

Sherlock decided to give John a few days, to get his strength up before he made a break for Baker Street. When a few days turned into a week he became worried. What if it hadn't worked?

John had screamed for a long time while Adler recharged his nanobots, Sherlock wondered if he could of done it. Caused his only friend so much pain in order to spare his life. Sherlock had been frozen, listening to it until it finally ended and he fled.

What was taking John so long?

His phone beeped.

**John completely healed and quite happy here. Keep your distance, he is not in the mood to see you again. –IA**

Ludicrous. John would never happily stay with Adler, you would have to be Anderson to believe that was true. But then again, John had suffered greatly when Sherlock was caring for him, what if he held a grudge?

No impossible, John wasn't like that.

Right?

He'd have to go and get John himself. That was the only choice he had. He wasn't leaving him behind. Not again.

-oOo-

John heard him before he saw him. Somebody was climbing up the side of the building; no doubt Adler knew he was here too. Irene knew Sherlock would come looking once John had not escaped on his own. The doctor knew she was sitting at her computer watching the video footage streaming from the hidden camera in the room.

The Alpha had given him a room in her house at least, containing a bed, wardrobe filled with needlessly expensive suits and clothes and a dressing table. It wasn't much but it was his own space at least. No doubt Sherlock had deduced which room he was in.

He had to scare Sherlock off, for his own good. The idea of having strong acid released within his blood stream, burning him up from the inside… It was too much.

Within a minute John heard his window opening.

"John!" Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief; it hurt how happy the detective was when he laid eyes on him.

"Sherlock." John nodded trying his best not to sound as ecstatic as he felt.

Sherlock took a step forward, John took another back. The detective looked at him quizzically.

"Come on John, we have to leave now."

"I'm not leaving." John replied, making his voice as cold as he could. He hated this, hurting Sherlock. But it was for his own good.

"What?" Sherlock gaped, "But-"

"I want to stay here. Go home Sherlock." John replied.

Sherlock looked as his heart was being ripped in two.

"But…I…"

"Oh hello Sherlock, I thought we'd hear from you." Irene purred entering the room, ever dramatic.

"What did you do to him?" Sherlock yelled.

"I helped him." Irene smiled, "Come on John, let's see Sherlock out."

"No, John don't." Sherlock pleaded. _Don't go to her._

John hated himself. He turned and walked to stand by Irene though every fibre of his being wanted to go to Sherlock.

"It's his choice." Irene cooed, stroking one of her sharp nails across John's face. It took an amazing about of acting skill to look as if he enjoyed the gesture rather than bite her finger off like he wanted to.

"I see." Sherlock's hand had curled into fists, "You're happy?"

_No._

"Yes." John lied.

"Alright." Sherlock sighed, he looked like he could burst into tears at any moment, "I'll leave you be."

_No! Sherlock don't go! Save me! I'm sorry._

Sherlock ducked out the window, Irene grinned.

"Well done." She praised before leaving John alone in the dark room. He immediately ran to the window. Watching a dejected Sherlock walk his way down the street. The detective's shoulders shook; John could see it from here.

_I'm sorry Sherlock. I am so, so sorry. _

* * *

**So I have a pretty free day at school aside from a panel presentation so I wrote up this chapter. Will the boys be able to see each other ever again? I'm afraid to say, you will have to wait and see…depending on peoples reactions I MIGHT get another chapter written before I leave but I wont promise anything. **


	12. Chapter 12

John had always been one of those people who believed Hell was all fire and brimstone, people tied to posts and burning to death for all eternity. No, that wasn't hell, being at Irene's beck and call was.

She'd shown him the solution she'd injected into Sherlock and even had the man she'd gotten to make the extra bots come to meet him. A genius no doubt and Irene knew what he liked. He wasn't exactly a slave but he might as well of been. He was given a room, food, drink and pretty much anything he wanted and some things he didn't. However Irene was very adamant about a few 'simple' rules she'd put in place.

He was not to leave the house without her not that he could with all her traps, no computer or internet access of any kind without her present, no phones and no mail. Not that anybody could send him a letter. Irene had his hair died dark brown and he never left the house without his long coat and sunglasses. Nobody would recognize him unless he spoke to them or got particularly close and Irene never gave him that chance.

He mostly worked as some sort of body guard for her, following her everywhere, beating up the people she blackmailed when they came to attack or even try to kill her. Other times he just wandered the house with his fingers in his ears while she went on with her 'business'. Any time he could he read through papers and watched the news for any signs or news on Sherlock.

He began cutting out articles with crimes that Sherlock might of found interesting and sticking them in a book, along with articles about the detective. It had taken a month for Sherlock to appear in the paper as a consultant on a case. John wondered what he told everybody who wasn't Lestrade or Mycroft. Did they all think he'd died from the 'genetic disease'?

He'd get back to Sherlock somehow, apologize for what he'd said last time they'd been together. He'd make things right. Some how.

-oOo-

It made no sense, why would John choose Irene over him? Irene had to have some sort of hold over John, that was the only explanation of all the facts! He'd spent almost three weeks trying to figure it out to no avail. He'd frightened Lestrade and Mycroft terribly he knew.

_Three Weeks Earlier..._

_He hardly remember getting away from Irene's house, the picture of John standing with her happily made his stomach churn. He made his way through London at his top speed, not caring who saw or their reaction, nor knowing where he was going. Eventually he ended up in the middle of an older part of the city, inside an abandoned hotel or apartment building. If he cared he could of known with a single glance but he didn't. _

_All he cared about was the fact that the building was abandoned and had been for a long time, he could vent some anger here and nobody would get hurt. _

_So he hurled lightning, punched through walls and screamed at the top of his lungs for almost an hour. After a while he finally began to tire and collapsed against the wall of what used to be a dining room. He had a few moments peace before his beyond human hearing picked it up. Two sets of feet coming up the stairs from the first floor._

_"Christ he's practically torched the place."_

_"Yes well, Sherlock never has been very good with emotions due to his 'upbringing'."_

_Lestrade and Mycroft._

_"It's got to be John doesn't it?" Lestrade sighed as they came closer, "He's died."_

_"That is my first guess but I wouldn't be so sure."_

_"Why?"_

_"I saw Sherlock carry John out into a cab earlier this week but somebody interfered with the cameras and I never saw where they went. But Sherlock was at home a while later and all was well so I assumed John was with him, resting."_

_"Well he's not there now that's for damn sure. He'd of stopped Sherlock doing all this."_

_"Stop talking about me like I'm not here." Sherlock called out._

_"Sherlock!"_

_Lestrade and Mycroft walked over to him, he glared at them angrily. He didn't know why, he just needed to be angry with somebody other than himself. _

_Eventually he managed to tell them what had happened, along with busting a few ore holes into the walls. He'd begged Mycroft to go and get John, he was the British Government, surely he had the man power. _

_But apparently Adler had done her homework. She had blackmail material for half of Mycroft's personnel, along with several military secrets. She'd been planning this for over a year. _

_So Mycroft took a now very over tired and over taxed Sherlock back to Baker Street and refused to let him out of his sight for over a week. Lestrade spread the story of John's death as a rumor among the men and woman of Scotland Yard and slowly things became a much blander version of normal. _

-oOo-

Sherlock had seen John from a distance a few times, once when he was escorting her home, another when he was playing body guard while she shopped and once more on the news.

He'd been in the background for the most part, the actual news was about Irene splitting up a famous politician and his wife. John had kept the cameras at bay but that was it. His hair was darker and longer and the clothes didn't suit him at all but Sherlock knew it was John.

Every time he looked, empty. Like he hated himself and everything around him, especially Irene. That solidified the thesis that he wasn't actually being with her because he wanted to. So why would he lie?

It wasn't fear for his own life that much was obvious, John would never be so cowardly. So it had to be somebody he cared for, namely, Sherlock. He checked himself out, nothing out of the ordinary, he was perfectly healthy. He checked the flat, no bombs, no traps no nothing. He even checked over Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft and still nothing.

What was keeping him away?

* * *

**I'm back! Japan was amazingly fun! I'm not sure how many more chapters I will need to finish this story yet, I know the plan for it but I dunno how much space the details will take up. **


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock missed John.

The man was quiet and even colder than he had been before. He'd shown up at a crime scene nearly two months back looking like thunder. John was not with him. Donovan made the jump, that Sherlock had lost his brother. People whispered it around, the rumour that John Watson was dead but Sherlock refused to confirm or deny.

Donovan remembered the state John had been in when she had delivered the drug she couldn't help but feel sorry for the man.

-oOo-

Sherlock couldn't take it; he needed to know what was keeping John away. He stayed hidden within an alley, watching Irene's house. He'd been concealed here for almost an hour now but he didn't mind, he'd wait as long as he had to.

Finally, Irene left and John was not with her, meaning he was within the building. He waited an extra fifteen minutes just to make sure the coast was clear before running across the road and around the corner to where he knew John's room was.

For a moment he considered throwing a rock against the window to alert John to his presence but decided against it. He couldn't shake the slight doubt that perhaps John really did want to stay with Irene. A cold feeling sunk through the detective's shoulders. What if it was the bond? What if the bond was what made John care for him? Now that Irene's bond had broken his, he cared only for her now.

No! He shook his head. He knew John and John was loyal by choice, not because some strange nanobots told him to be.

Right?

Not dwelling on it any further he clambered up to the seconds floor and eased the window open enough to squeeze himself through. John's room was empty and dark, no Omega in sight.

"John?" he called quietly, though with his enhanced hearing he knew John would hear.

Feet thundered up the staircase. John burst into the room and for a few seconds he just stared. John was dressed in unfamiliar clothes that did not suit him and his haired was dark as it had been on the television. But it was John. For a few wonderful seconds Sherlock was sure he saw happiness in those familiar blue eyes before they closed and John's face turned thunderous and…scared?

"What are you doing here Sherlock?" He growled, though the detective sensed that his heart wasn't in it.

"I need to know why you are so intent of serving Irene, I've seen you in the media John." Sherlock replied, "Maybe nobody else notices you in the background but I do. You're not happy."

"Yes I am." John argued, his eyes flicked to the side for a fraction of a second, "I don't want you here."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked letting his eyes flick to where John's had been a few seconds before, a tiny glint in the darkness. A camera! John was acting! Sherlock felt hope swell in his stomach though he didn't let it show on his face.

"Because I want to be with Irene." John pleaded, though Sherlock could tell he was actually begging to be saved, not to stay.

Sherlock pretended to get angry, growling in frustration he let his lightning build and spark, one bolt hitting the camera lens with a satisfying crack. He looked to John without shedding his mask, John's eyes flicked to the other wall, Sherlock fired off in 'anger' and John sighed in relief. Sherlock took that as a cue to stop his fake attack and dropped the lightning.

"Sherlock," John smiled, "I am so sorry, you know I didn't mea-"

The rest of the sentence was lost when Sherlock swept the man up in a forceful hug. It had been a long while since they had been together, save the quiet visit when John had first been taken by Irene. John returned the gesture immediately, before braking it and laying a hand over Sherlock's and felt their bond open like an overflowing dam, though instead of water there was emotion.

_I missed you I missed you I missed you!_

After a while John let go and they laughed, not sure why, probably nerves. Finally Sherlock returned to his serious self.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" He asked, "You're obviously not happy."

"You've been poisoned." John explained.

"No I checked I'm fine." Sherlock argued before John held up a hand to quiet him and explained about the new nanobots in his system.

"You have to go." John urged, "Before she comes back. She'll suspect us of speaking since we knocked out her cameras."

"But-" Sherlock felt himself fill with dread at the thought.

"I'll be fine, but you need to knock me out." John argued.

"What?" Sherlock hissed, after all they had been through in the last few months the last thing Sherlock wanted was to harm John in any way, shape or form.

"Sherlock, she needs to believe I've abandoned you and you hate me for it." John sighed, "She's never going to believe if she comes in here and see's these scorch marks and video and yet I'm some how completely fine."

"Can't you just put yourself to sleep?" Sherlock tried, John shook his head.

"Sherlock, be logical."

Of all the times to be logical! Usually Sherlock was the one telling John that, not the other way around.

"Use your lightning, have it hit me in the chest and push me into the wall." John told him, "That will most likely knock me out, I'll heal myself up as soon as I wake, promise."

Sherlock fought the urge to bite his lip, John was right it had to be done. Bringing harm to John now would hurt but it was worth it in the long run if it meant they would be free of Irene.

"I am sorry about this." He sighed taking his place half way across the room where he'd been standing originally.

"It's alright, I already forgive you." John replied, closing his eyes and adding somewhat nervously, "Now get on with it."

Sherlock raised his hand and turned away, he felt the lightning shoot from his hand and a soft cry from John followed by a loud thump as he hit the wall and slid down to the floor. The detective made a point of not looking back before leaping out the window, he'd already seen John suffering enough.

* * *

**This story is almost done! Sorry the updates are taking so long, I've got LOADS of school work and that comes first I'm afraid. **


	14. Chapter 14

John couldn't remember much after Sherlock turning away and charging up his lightning again. The electricity must of scrambled his brain a bit, the next thing he knew somebody was shaking him by the shoulder roughly.

Irene was home.

"Ouch, jeez Irene give me a moment, or do you want me to have more damage done?" He hissed before summoning his rings and working on the large burn across his chest.

"I watched the footage, how convenient that Sherlock knocked out both the cameras." She purred, John made sure to keep his face skillfully blank.

"I wouldn't know, because of the lies you made me tell Sherlock now hates me." John seethed, only half acting, it would be good to let out some his anger.

"How do I know you two haven't cooked up some plan?" Irene hissed coming much to close for comfort.

"The fact that he blasted me across the room isn't enough?" John growled as he turned away from the horrid woman and continued to finish his healing.

Irene narrowed her eyes at him for a few moments longer and finally scoffed and left the room. John flopped down on his bed which was thankfully undamaged and dreamed of home.

-oOo-

"No."

"Mycroft be reasonable, I would complete the task myself but for obvious reasons-"

"No, Sherlock. Nothing you will say can convince me."

Both Alpha's stood in the ornately decorated visitors room at the Diogenes Club. Sherlock was fuming, not only was it humiliating that he had to come to Mycroft for help in the first place but now the man was refusing him!

"I need these extra nanobots out of my system!" Sherlock argued, "You are always saying you worry about me constantly yet you refuse to help me remove canister containing acid from my blood?"

"How would I even go about it Sherlock?" Mycroft demanded, "Even the Facility scientists had a hard time remove specific nanobots from out systems and there were several of them working at once!"

Sherlock growled angrily ad proceeded to punch Mycroft's desk in half without so much as a splinter.

"It's the only thing keeping John at her mercy!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Am I supposed to just live the rest of my life knowing he is miserable?"

"John's fate is regrettable but there is nothing I can do!"

"No, there is nothing you are _willing_ to do!" Sherlock yelled, "It's not that you can't, you won't!"

The two men stood glaring at one another for a few more tense moments before Mycroft sighed and slid down into his chair.

"I will try Sherlock." He sighed, "But the odds are not in your favor here."

"Since when have the odds ever been on my side?" Sherlock grinned wolfishly.

-oOo-

The next week was tense for John, he had no idea how Sherlock was going about removing the acid filled robots from his system. He knew the detective, eh wouldn't visit again until he was sure his life was out of the firing line, for John's sake. He simply needed to wait it out.

However it wasn't the waiting John hated, he would wait for yeas if he had to. It was the fact there was no deadline, Sherlock could come barreling through the door today or in three years time. John had no idea, he was working toward a goal and had no idea when it was within his reach.

He wasn't sure if he should be thankful that Irene's schedule was full. On the plus side, he had many jobs to keep him occupied, on the down side it meant he had to don very thick earmuffs quite a few times a day. All her clients were coming here for the next few weeks, she didn't want John out of the building. The Omega was stuck in the worlds most luxurious prison cell.

When he'd first heard the doorbell he'd sighed, grabbed his dark glasses and slipped them over his face. Apparently Irene was too important to answer her own door. The doctor had expected some nervous looking business man, or even woman but to his surprise it was Mycroft at the door.

John just raised his eyes brows without speaking, the elder man scowled at him.

"I am not a client of Miss Adler of thats what you are thinking." He sighed before walking in.

"What are you doing here?" John asked feeling slightly panicked, Irene would be down any second.

"I came to deliever a message." Mycroft replied. John was sure Irene could hear his heart beating.

"You can't pass messages between Sherlock and I!" John hissed, "She'll-"

"I'll what?" Irene cut in.

Damn.

"I have come to inform John of something concerning Sherlock, the two of them spoke seven days ago." Mycroft informed her, John felt his heart breaking and his rage building at Mycroft's betrayal.

"I was later informed by Sherlock that he had some deadly extra nanobots in his system which you would active were you not pleased with John." Mycroft continued.

"I suspected as much." Irene growled fishing out the switch that would kill Sherlock.

"I'm afraid that is redundant now." Mycroft sighed, "You see, Sherlock urged me to try and remove the extra nanobots from his system."

"By yourself?" Irene scoffed, "Impossible."

"Exactly what I told him, however he was most insistent." Mycroft sighed sadly, "That was in downfall."

"Downfall?" John cut in feeling something akin to panic building in his chest.

"I am afraid that when I attempted to remove the nanobots from his blood stream, Sherlock bled out."

"What?" John breathed.

"Oh dear." Irene smirked without a hint of sincerity.

"What do you mean he bled out!?" John yelled, "You can't mean..."

"I'm afraid Sherlock is dead John." Mycroft replied coolly, "I felt it best you knew."

"No...no he can't be." John was shaking his head so fast it made him dizzy.

"I am sorry John, I did my best to keep him alive but the blood loss was simply too much for even his body to handle." Mycroft replied softly.

Irene pressed down on the button, John saw black spots.

"Just to be safe." She smiled, "Just in case you were lying about his death, well, even if he was still living he's take care of now."

John made a wounded sound and sunk slowly to the floor, he felt sick. Sherlock couldn't be dead, he'd seen him just a few days ago. He couldn't be. Mycroft was lying, he had to be lying! He looked up at the Alpha, his eyes were steely and hard. He wasn't lying.

He blocked out Irene and Mycroft's voices and buried his head in his hands. He was stuck here, he'd serve Irene for the rest of his life. He'd be miserable, forever. Now he didn't have anything to cling to for hope.

Sherlock had left him.

Sherlock was dead.

* * *

**Bet you didn't see that coming. **


	15. Chapter 15

It was as if everything had lost its colour, simply drained out of his life like a canvas being washed clean. He was barely living, he'd wake, get dressed, eat a small amount of food and do what ever it was Irene asked of him that day, then he'd go to bed and start it all over again. Now that Sherlock was de-gone, Irene had no hold over him and he knew he could leave if he wanted to. But what was the point?

He had no energy left to fight with, no drive to escape. Where would he even go? Irene would come after him anyway. He entertained the idea of running to Mycroft, he knew he'd look after him but again, what was the point? The politician would probably just employ him and he'd be no happier than he was here.

_He bled out, I could have saved him if I was there, _he thought bitterly to himself. It was true, bleeding out was the easiest way to kill them but as long as John was there to close the wounds in time there was no real danger. But John hadn't been there.

Was this what Mycroft felt like when Athena had been killed? How did he even go on?

-oOo-

Having ones blood drained was a very unpleasant experience in Sherlock's opinion. However it was worth it to be free of Irene's poison. It had taken a long time but slowly Mycroft had drained half a pint of blood from the man, identified and removed each of the canisters containing poison and then transfused the blood back into Sherlock's body. It had taken days to finish the procedure completely, leaving Sherlock dazed and woozy for the entire period.

When Mycroft had returned from Irene's house after informing it's two residents of his fictional demise he'd looked sombre. John had evidently not taken the news well. Mycroft informed him that Adler even activated the nanobots to be sure. He was in the clear. Sherlock felt terribly guilty for causing John more pain but it had to be done, he'd give it a few weeks just to make sure Irene was convinced. Then he would collect John.

"Do you plan on killing Adler?" Mycroft asked him the next day when the detective was finally thinking clearly.

"It seems the logical solution." Sherlock replied dryly.

"I don't suppose you wish to have my help in your endeavour." Mycroft replied.

"You despise fighting, you're not up for legwork." Sherlock smirked.

""True." Mycroft nodded, "But please Sherlock, tell me when you plan for this showdown to take place, so I can organise a little back up should you need it."

Sherlock grunted, Mycroft rolled his eyes. He'd have to keep an eye on him.

-oOo-

Time passed both agonisingly slowly and fast for John. The days blurred together, they were all dull. However Irene was gleeful, she enjoyed him now that he was broken, he'd do all her chores without complaint.

"I do wish you'd smile once in a while though." She sighed, "You'll scare off my clients with that scowl."

"Bite me." He grumbled.

Irene just smirked.

-oOo-

The night was cold, John was practically shivering and he could see the snow falling outside his window. Logically he should get up and turn on his heater, close the window, keep the warm in. But he didn't. There wasn't much point anyway.

There wasn't much point to anything anymore.

He missed Sherlock. He missed his brother.

He hadn't cried much about it really, he'd been numb. Still was.

He was still wallowing in self-pity when he heard a click by his window. Somebody was picking the lock. Another day John might of run to the window to see who it was. Today he just turned over and faced his back toward it. If it was some robber he didn't care if they stole anything, hell he might even help them just to piss off Irene.

He heard the window slide up and a pair of feet land on the hardwood floor. John stayed still. Who ever it was walked over to the bed and stood over him, John cracked his eyes open and immediately squeezed them closed. The shadow of a man was falling over him to the floor, he was thin and tall. It reminded him of Sherlock.

"John."

John snapped his palms over his ears. He'd lost it, he was going crazy! He was seeing and hearing things that simply couldn't be there!

"John stop panicking it's very unbecoming."

Only one person could speak like that.

John shot up and landed on his feet by Sherlock. He looked fine, soft smile bright eyes. He was alive! John pleaded with whatever God there was that this wasn't a dream.

"I'm seeing things." He said dumbly.

"No you're not." Sherlock chuckled quietly, "Mycroft always lies you know that."

John's vision went slightly red at that and the next thing he knew Sherlock was on the floor sporting a black eye.

"You bastard!" John hissed, "How could you-"

"John be quiet!" Sherlock whispered.

"Don't you tell me to be quiet!" John raged.

"No, John you don't understand!" Sherlock replied eyes flicked to the door nervously.

"Oh what a surprise, slow John Watson can't keep up with the genius!" John snapped.

"John Irene will hear you!" Sherlock hissed, "We can't fight her here, who knows how many traps she has laid through this house!"

Oops.

John's sensitive hearing could already detect Irene moving up the stairs.

"Come on John." Sherlock had John by the elbow and was dragging him toward the window.

To be honest John still felt numb and slightly dizzy. The devastating loss was being replaced with shock and betrayal on Sherlock's part; he was having trouble comprehending anything besides surprise and anger.

Somehow he clambered out the window and landed heavily on the ground after falling from the second floor. His ankles twinged in protest, the doctor thanked his nanobots silently and began to run. It was slightly euphoric, running with Sherlock like this. No purposely slowing down to appear normal, they ran full pelt through the dark streets, avoid all human contact. John strained his ears to find he could hear Irene's heels clicking after them.

How was it even possible to run that fast with heels on?

Laughter bubbled up in the Omega's chest, the running, the adrenaline that Sherlock bought; he'd missed it so much.

It took them only mere minutes of running to find themselves in an older part of the city currently under restoration. Completely abandoned construction site, perfect.

As soon as Sherlock stopped John practically tackled him, it was a miracle they were still standing.

"John?" Sherlock muttered, obviously confused.

John just hugged him tighter.

"You great git." He whispered, "Don't you ever do that again. Ever. I don't care if it's the logical choice you don't ever do that again."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock sighed returning the gesture, "I missed you too."

"Well isn't this all very sweet?" Irene cooed.

The two men snapped to attention, eye's blazing, ready to fight.

"I dislike my things being touched." Irene growled, eyes and hair lighting up like some demonic Christmas decoration.

"I'd like him back now."

* * *

**Only a few more chapters to go! Good on those of you who figured out Sherlock wasn't actually dead. I was surprised when a few of you actually thought he was :P **


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock stepped in front of John scowling.

"No. You can't beat us."

"I've done it before." Irene purred.

"Only with tricks and traps." John sneered, "We're on our turf now, we're stronger together."

"Even if you do win, I wont help you. No matter what you do. I'd rather die!" John continued, "I'm not some prize to be won!"

Irene observed him for a few moments, John could feel his heart thundering in his chest.

"Very well." She sighed.

For a few shocked seconds John almost thought she was going to walk away. Leave them alone forever and they could finally get back on with their lives. But it wasn't that easy, it never was.

"I'll just have to settle for killing you instead."

Red lightning burst forwards and both men had moved just in time. It seems if she couldn't have the Omega, nobody could. The last time they fought John had barely been at half strength, now he was looking forward to blowing off the steam and hate that had been building for the months he'd been at this woman's beck and call.

He dove out of the way of another bolt of lightning and curled his fingers around a large metal support beam that was yet to be attached to he rest of the construction project.

"Batter up!" He yelled, swinging it forwards with as much force as he could muster.

He felt his lips twitch when he felt Irene collide with the heavy metal. Too bad she was an Alpha not a normal human, that would of finished this off early. Instead of looking annoyed, she grinned much to John's surprise and grabbed onto the still moving metal, digging his her nails and all of a sudden a hundred volts of electricity were shooting through his veins causing him to drop the metal with a cry after only a second.

"John!"

Sherlock was there in a second and the two Alpha's soon had an impressive display of lightning flying back and forth. John quickly sprouted his wings and flew over head, looking for anything he could use as a weapon to tip the odds in Sherlock's favor, Irene and he were too evenly matched.

Bricks. That'll work.

Swooping down he gathered as many as he could before taking to the sky once more and hurling them down at the woman. She dodged every one.

"Damn." John cursed.

Sherlock gave a howl from below him and John turned to see him clutching the side of his face, the lightning had glanced off leaving a bloody gash. The detective stumbled but continued the fight.

John bit his lip, there had to be something.

That's when he spotted the water pipes down below, if Sherlock had been practicing his telekinesis...

"John, look out!"

John was jolted back into reality as he saw a stream of lighting fly towards him, he had no time to move and the blast hit him full on knocking him right out of the sky.

He landed hard on the dirt ground and his breath was knocked from him making him choke and cough in a desperate attempt to refill his lungs. Irene was closest to him, she was on him in seconds, hands closing over his throat. Usually, John would be stronger than her when it came to brute strength but he was still winded from the fall and Irene was blocking off his air supply.

"John!"

"Sh-erlock! Wat...water...pipe!" John chocked out, flailing an arm towards the pipes. He prayed Sherlock got his meaning.

John's vision was getting slightly fuzzy around the edges now he clawed at Irene but she stuck fast. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Suddenly Irene was gone, replaced with a powerful jet of water and his throat was unconstricted. Gasping for breath he turned to the side to see Sherlock, direction the water form the pipe.

John got to his feet, already looking around for another weapon when he caught a glint in Irene's eye. He knew that look.

"Sherlock, stop!" John cried but it was too late Irene sent her lightning through the water, which conducted it straight into Sherlock. The water conducted much faster than the crude metal John had been holding, meaning Sherlock was hit much harder he yelled before falling and curling in on himself. John could see his body spasming from his place across the site.

Irene gave a bitter and triumphant laugh and John saw red. It was all her fault, all this pain and misery had been caused by her! Everything he'd been through these last few weeks. He hated her more than anybody, including Moriarty and Kell.

He felt his blood boil, almost literally and he dove at her pinning her against a half finished brick wall. He could feel their weak bond open when his palms came into contact with the skin on her shoulders and through the rage he came up with an idea. He was an Omega he could control nanobots, use them to heal, but what if he didn't use them to heal? He could use them to hurt.

Focusing his energy into the tiny robot he forced them upwards and out, ripping at flesh and muscle on the inside of the body. Irene's grin was soon gone.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" She screamed trying to wriggle away but found she was unable to. It was hard to move when thousands of tiny robots where ripping you apart from the inside out. After a single minute visible dark spots were beginning to form from the bleeding beneath her skin.

John knew he should stop, he'd caused enough internal bleeding and hemorrhaging to make recovery impossible but he found he couldn't. He _wanted _her to feel as much pain as was humanly possible. He focused harder, she screamed. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd of kept this up were it not for a hand gripping him by the shoulder.

"John, stop. It's over she's dead."

John turned angrily to find Sherlock looking at him with apprehension. All the anger drained out of the doctor and he turned back and surveyed the damage he'd just done. He'd never enjoyed violence, he'd always tried to end things as quickly as possible. He'd never tried to cause pain purposefully, never drag somebody's pain out as long as he could like he just had.

He dropped Irene in shock and she fell. Sherlock was right, she was dead. Large bloody bruises were showing through the skin but that was nothing compared to what her innards must f been like, the doctor hadn't left anything intact.

"Oh God." John groaned taking a horrified step back, "I didn't...I didn't mean for it to..."

But he _had. _

John felt like he was going to be sick.

He must of been swaying slightly because Sherlock grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

"Breathe, John." Sherlock muttered, "You need to breathe."

John hadn't realized he'd stopped. He drew in a shaky breath.

"Let's go home, we both need to rest." Sherlock murmured.

* * *

**One more chapter to go!**


	17. Epilogue

Some how Sherlock managed to steer John out of the construction site and gently helped him sit down against the temporary walls. The doctor was still in a state of shock at what he'd done and barely noticed they'd moved at all.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, John nodded dumbly.

"I'm going to call Mycroft." Sherlock informed him slowly as if he were afraid John was in shock. Actually, it wasn't a thought without cause.

He could hear Mycroft yelling at Sherlock through the phone and he couldn't help but chuckle. It had been a long time since something so ordinary as an argument between the brothers had happened. Shakily he got to his feet, stumbling slightly, now he was beginning to feel the effects or the battle on him, the lightning had made him more than a little sore.

"Sherlock let me look at you." John offered, "That cut on your forehead is still bleeding and you took more hits than I did."

"I'm fine. Heal yourself."

"No come here." John demanded.

Sherlock sighed, John didn't often win fight but when he was determined there was no stopping him. Especially when it came to injuries. John quickly began working on the cut until it had fully disappeared, though the blood already spilt still stained the detectives pale skin. He then worked on the various burns left by Irene's lightning. Only after he was satisfied did the doctor begin working on himself.

"Mycroft is sending a car for us." Sherlock said quietly, "And a clean up crew for her."

John flinched involuntarily.

"It's okay you know, she would of just kept coming after us. She had to die." Sherlock continued.

"I know." John replied not looking Sherlock in the eye.

"You've killed before and not acted this way." Sherlock's eyebrows knotted together in confusion before he turned away slightly, looking annoyed.

"Did you care for her a little?" He asked bitterly.

"No!" John yelled, furious that Sherlock would even suggest such a thing, "I hated her!"

"Then why are you acting so illogical?" Sherlock snapped, "You must have cared for her in some extreme, perhaps you regret killing her."

"No, she needed to die, I just regret, loosing it like that." John said quietly, "I caused unnecessary pain…and liked it."

"Everybody losses their cool once in a while John." Sherlock sighed, "We need to rest. Come on the car is here."

-oOo-

John had never been so happy to see Baker Street, the first few minutes after arriving he spent simply looking around the living area, running his fingers along all the little things that had remained the same. Sherlock had even left his coffee mug on the table from weeks ago, before he'd become bed ridden.

"I've really missed you." Sherlock said after a few minutes.

"I missed you too." John smiled, the first proper smile he'd had in a while, "Baker Street too."

Though the danger was over John couldn't help but feel there was a cloud hanging over them, like they weren't really free at all.

"The other Alpha's are dead." Sherlock said after a moment.

"What?" John spun round to face him fully in shock.

"Mycroft looked into it, most of them died before we met again, no self preservation."

"Nothing to live for?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Irene was the last, unless you count Mycroft and myself." Sherlock confirmed, "We're the only pair that survived."

"Last of our kind." John breathed.

Again Sherlock nodded.

For some reason this made John laugh, pure relief was bubbling up in his chest until somehow he was bent over leaning on his knees trying to stop the laughter but failing miserably. Soon Sherlock joined him until they both collapsed on the couch giggling.

Once they finally got control of themselves both found they didn't want to move. So John grabbed the blanket that usually hung over the back of the couch and threw it over them.

"We'll need to get that dye out of your hair tomorrow." Sherlock murmured. "Dark brown doesn't suit you."

John chuckled.

Happily to the snuggled down against the cushions to sleep, peacefully, for the first time in weeks.

-oOo-

"I hear Lestrade's calling the freak in." Dimmock sighed handing off a cup of coffee to Sally.

"We really should be a little kinder to him." Sally sighed, "Since John died he seems to, hollow."

Dimmock made a face.

"Hey, I'm not saying I like him!" Sally defended, "Just that I'd hate to push him off the edge. I may not like the guy but I don't want to find his body overdosed in some alley."

"As if I would ever be that clumsy." Scoffed a baritone behind them.

Both officers jumped to find the intimidating figure of Sherlock Holmes standing behind them.

"Now, Sherlock." John sighed, "Don't start aggravating people before we've even gotten the case file."

"John!" Sally gaped, "You're alive!"

"Of course I'm alive." John scoffed, "Sherlock did you tell them I was dead?"

"No." Sherlock scoffed, "I simply didn't wish to speak about you while you were…away."

"Away?" Dimmock asked.

"Mycroft found some clinic in a high end part of Paris that had an experimental treatment that could work on me." John 'explained', "I've been there for weeks, only got home last night."

"I honestly have no idea where that rumour came from, about you dying." Lestrade spoke as he joined the group, "But how about you don't get sick again, he's too much of a handful without you to mind him."

"I do not need a minder!" Sherlock snapped, "I came here for a case do you have one or not?"

"Maybe." Lestrade gave a teasing smile holding out the folder, but just out of Sherlock's reach.

"Give it!" Sherlock ordered reaching for it.

John laughed as the two then proceeded to chase one another over a desk in an odd game of 'keepings off'.

"John! What's the point if you don't help me! Get the file!" Sherlock yelled.

John laughed.

All was well.

* * *

**Tada! I've had that planned for ages! Woho! This series is over I'm afraid I only planned two stories but I'm glad you all enjoyed it! **


End file.
